Chương 37: Chapter 36: Untouched by the Sun

Hephryx's words were still hanging in the air when the remaining Alloys moved in on Silk. Their heavy boots crunched over the scorched, smoking earth, forming a tight perimeter around her.

"By order of the estate, you are under arrest for the unprovoked assault of a recognized guest," the lead Alloy barked, his voice tight with adrenaline. Silk didn't raise her sword. She stood amidst the ruined grass, her armor battered and her breathing shallow. She looked utterly exhausted, the energy that drove her moments ago drained from her muscles. She recognized her position. Fighting now was a guaranteed death sentence. Before the Alloys could advance, Lucien shoved his way through the perimeter.

He threw himself in front of Silk, spreading his arms wide. To the Alloys, it looked like a challenge, a demand for an explanation, but Elma noticed the strange angle of his stance. One arm was raised toward them as if questioning their actions, while the other subtly shielded Silk behind him. For a moment, she couldn't tell if he was trying to stop them or simply understand what was happening.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded. The guards froze. The tips of their blades wavered. He was unarmored and unarmed, but he was still a Kresnik. Lucien's expression was tense, his eyes darting between the Alloys and Silk behind him. He looked less like someone issuing a challenge and more like someone desperately trying to keep a situation from spiraling out of control. Elma could see the fear in him, the hesitation of someone who knew he was crossing a line but couldn't step aside.

"Stand down," Hephryx's voice drifted through the clearing, smooth and devoid of the tension that gripped everyone else. He stepped forward, idly adjusting the cuffs of his regenerated coat. He didn't look at the drawn swords or the confused noble. His dark eyes were glued to Silk. He tilted his head, observing her battered form the way a horologist might inspect a fascinating, albeit defective, pocket watch.

"She is too valuable to be simply killed or thrown in a cell," Hephryx murmured, a strange note of appreciation in his tone.

"Despite the glaring imperfections." He turned his attention toward the edge of the crater, finding Nina.

"Lady Kresnik... allow me a few weeks with her. I promise you she'll be coming back sharper." Elma's stomach twisted.

"No!" Lucien snapped, his voice cracking slightly before he forced it lower.

"She's too sharp already." Hephryx raised an eyebrow, feigning mild surprise, while Nina's gaze slowly slid over to her son. Lucien swallowed hard.

"She is... she's already efficient. She just proved it." His eyes narrowed.

"You're letting your emotions over her attack cloud your judgment. I won't allow that to decide my guard's fate."

"Emotions?" Hephryx repeated, working his jaw.

"Emotions are what drive you now young Master. There couldn't possibly be something closer between you two now is there? Considering your House's predicament."

"Silk is my guard," Lucien said, his voice low.

"Nothing more. If I were you, Guest, I'd be very careful whose threads I tug. The moon shines on every strand of House Kresnik's web, and we never forget who tugs at them." Elma stared at Lucien in surprise. She hadn't thought the timid, perpetually flustered noble capable of sounding so imposing. Across from him, the corner of Nina's lips lifted by the barest fraction, so slight Elma might have imagined it. This was going to end badly if someone didn't break the vector.

"She was protecting me," Elma shouted. The words left her throat in a high, brittle pitch that startled even her. She winced. Right. This was why she hated raising her voice. It sounded weak, pitiful... like a Unit being strangled. Heat crept into her face, but she crushed the embarrassment before it could take hold. She had endured far worse than an awkward voice. Lifting her chin, she met Valerius' gaze, her expression settling back into its usual calm.

"It was not her duty, but she intervened anyway. I do not want him touching her." This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Hm." Valerius seemed to register Elma's words at last. He slowly turned his massive head to look at Nina. A grin spread across his scarred face.

"It seems your granddaughter has taken quite a liking to your son's guard," Valerius rumbled, the heavy bass of his voice easing the tension.

"I suggest we let her be." Nina remained perfectly still. Her stare was still locked on Lucien, who was now steadfastly refusing to meet her eyes, staring instead at a patch of unburned grass. Finally, Nina released a quiet, measured sigh.

"Very well. Leave her." The Alloys instantly sheathed their weapons and stepped back, breaking the perimeter. Lucien let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for a century. He turned and offered a hand to Silk. She stared at it for a second before gripping his forearm, letting him haul her fully upright. Before Lucien could usher her away, Silk paused. She looked over her shoulder, her gaze meeting Elma's. There was no warmth in her eyes.

No trace of gratitude for the intervention, nor the sharp paranoia of suspicion. It was a long, intensely unreadable stare.

"Well," Hephryx chuckled, breaking the quiet. The sound was soft, wet, and thoroughly unpleasant.

"If you're happy, then I'm happy." The lie hung heavily in the air. Nobody believed a word of it. The casual dismissal felt less like a retreat and entirely like a bookmark placed between the pages of a ledger, left to be reopened later. The adrenaline of the confrontation slowly bled out of the estate. As they moved back toward the manor, the groundskeepers and secondary servants were already swarming the blast radius.

Resonants moved dirt to even the craters, while others swept away the gray ash of the incinerated grass. The injured guards were quietly carried off toward the medical wing. The air in Valerius's private study was frigid. Elma sat in a heavy leather chair, her legs dangling far above the floor. Valerius sat at the table, his massive frame still radiating tension from the yard, while Nina sat impeccably straight at the head of the dark mahogany table. Hephryx sat opposite Valerius. The heavy oak doors opened.

A single servant entered, carrying a silver tray. The servant approached the table, set a single plated meal directly in front of Hephryx, bowed, and left. No other plates were brought in. Hephryx didn't seem to notice the insult. Or if he did, he simply didn't care. He picked up the fork and knife and began to eat. The speed was startling. He didn't pause to chew properly, nor did he seem to register the taste of the roasted meat or the seasoned vegetables.

He simply shoveled the food into his mouth with mechanical efficiency. The silver scraped loudly against the porcelain in the dead silence of the room. He stripped every edible scrap from the bone, wiping the plate entirely clean in a matter of seconds, unbothered by the three sets of eyes boring into him. Elma watched him, a hollow ache in her own empty stomach battling against a rising wave of revulsion.

It was understandable why they didn't want to dine with him, she thought, her lip curling slightly. But as the silence stretched on, a second, quieter thought crept into the back of her mind.

Had she unconsciously become accustomed to noble etiquette? The servant reappeared without being summoned, lifted the tray with practiced invisibility, and withdrew. Hephryx set down his fork. He unfolded the cloth beside his plate and pressed it once, precisely, against the corners of his mouth. Then he leaned back in his chair with the settled composure of someone who had just enjoyed a perfectly adequate afternoon.

"The hospitality," he said pleasantly, "is as good as ever. Nothing quite beats a meal within these walls." Elma watched him and wondered, not for the first time, whether he actually knew what the word meant. The room offered no response. Valerius's jaw was tight. Nina's face gave nothing. The silence pressed in from every wall, and Hephryx sat inside it completely unbothered, the way he sat inside everything. He had answers for every question in this room. Elma was certain of it.

She could tell Valerius that Hephryx had basically confessed to her and Hephryx would unravel it before the sentence finished. That was the confidence radiating off him. The certainty of a man who had always found the exit before anyone thought to lock the door. It didn't matter. Her eyes drifted to the solar sword resting on the table beside Valerius's arm. The golden light had purified the air around her, had incinerated everything within its radius, and had left her completely untouched.

She had felt it wash over her like warm water. It hadn't affected her at all. Which meant she could use it. Elma looked back at Hephryx. Him. Fenric. Sable. The green entity. Every hand that had ever moved her like a piece on a board. They would all perish under her feet.